


Saturday By the Canal

by itstonedme



Series: Beguilement Verse [12]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstonedme/pseuds/itstonedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern day AU.  In this chapter, Orlando sits down to talk with Dom during a weekend visit to Amsterdam.  Part 12 in the Beguilement universe.  Originally posted on LJ <a href="http://itstonedme.livejournal.com/69239.html#cutid1">here</a> with reader comments.  Lovely banner by Stormatdusk.</p><p>Disclaimer: A work of fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturday By the Canal

It's a lovely autumn morning, not so cool that -- once the bed's been made and they have dressed – Orlando and Elijah can't sit with their coffees out on the balcony.

"I'd rather you not come," Orlando says when the topic of arranging a get-together with Dom is raised. "Are you okay with that?"

"I am, but I don't know about Dom," Elijah replies. 

"Please run it by him when you call." 

Elijah picks up his mobile and leaves for the living room. Pieces of his conversation filter out through the doorway, but the street sounds roll over most of it. He's not gone long. "It's fine," he says when he returns. "He says he'll see you there at 11."

*

Orlando has been warned. "He's never on time," Elijah tells him before the two of them leave the flat. "You might wish to take something to read." 

On principle, Orlando refuses to take anything electronic. He pulls out the latest paperback he has on the go, something that he packs whether he's going to work or going to spend a weekend in bed with Elijah. At the moment, it's an espionage mystery.

He smiles to himself. He hasn't failed to note that Elijah has picked up on his reading habit enough to remind him and look out for him, like a good friend and lover does.

*

True to form, Dom arrives at the canal café fifteen minutes past the hour.

Orlando has managed to finish one chapter and is a few pages into the next when the chair across the table from him scrapes along the concrete of the shaded outdoor patio as it is being pulled back. He looks up and sees Dom, filtered in the sunlight by dancing overhead leaves, one hand on the chair back, the other already extended in greeting while he seats himself. 

Not only is Dom offering his hand, but he is also offering a shark's tooth smile, accessorized with sunglasses pulled to the tip of his nose, all the better to peer over. Dom figures it best to let Orlando see the whites of his eyes along with the focussed smoky blue. He's not wearing kohl; Dom doesn't believe in wearing makeup before noon, except for nail polish and then only sparingly. And he's abiding his mum's rules about good manners and has refrained from finger ink this day. He thinks that _vol d'ami*_ might be a little in-one's-face should Orlando be able to read French, which of course Dom wouldn't put past him since he's sure Elijah mentioned at some point that Orlando's firm had building contracts in Brittany once which Orlando oversaw. Trust the bastard to be thoroughly educated as well as ridiculously skilled. 

And fabulously sexy. Can't forget that. Fuck.

There is an exchange of "my pleasure/no mine" and other civilities even as the waiter sidles up to Dom, who makes a point to check what Orlando is drinking, which is a green tea, to which he places a matching order, along with some Dutch Letter biscuits to share. 

"So," he says as he places his folded sunglasses into his collar and finger fluffs his hair. "Are we going to swing our cocks and beat our chests and make menacing faces with our tongues about who should lay claim to the fair Elijah?" 

Orlando knows this is just Dom's gambit, that no one would ever presume that the extraordinarily independent Elijah Wood is up for grabs. One corner of his mouth curls as he genially replies, "I wouldn't dare, on two fronts. Firstly, one cannot bridle Elijah, no matter how great the desire. And secondly, by my reckoning, anyone who attempts to fuck with you would be on a fool's mission, especially if the matter concerns Elijah."

Dom looks both surprised and rightly pleased with this answer. Despite a courtship of only a few weeks, Orlando seems to have pegged both Elijah and his relationship with Elijah rather adroitly. He purses his lips. "Are you proposing a little fuckery with me?" he teases. "Truly flattered."

Orlando smiles and lets that one slide. Dom is showing that he is every bit the cheeky imp that his reputation brags, plus the need, as Elijah's oldest friend, to be in charge. Orlando has no qualms about rolling over to show his belly, metaphorically speaking. Sticking to his agenda, he says, "From what I know, you are the closest person Elijah has to family. I thought it time we get to know one another better, since what took place during our brief exchange last month at Ian's gallery opening was so limited. And awkward, truth be told."

Dom bristles a little, nothing apparent. Since Orlando didn't respond to his last comment, Dom decides he won't respond to Orlando's. Tit for tat, like. Especially since Orlando is making a case for being all friendly and familiar, something Dom's decidedly not feeling this morning. Dom is thinking that if _his_ truth were to be told, he'd much prefer pretending that he doesn't remember Orlando from the gallery night at all. A part of him really wants Orlando to know that he is unremarkable in every way. But the lie would be so baldly transparent, he has to let it go. 

"That's sweet, wanting to meet the loved ones," Dom smiles. "Very polite. Have you taken Elijah round to meet _your_ mum yet? Told her your heart's been lost to a comely whore from Europe's better boardrooms and ministries, a true walking, talking scandal sheet?"

 _Well,_ Orlando muses at this first shot across the bow, _that didn't take long._ It's obvious Dom is spoiling for a bit of a duel and has sharpened his tongue in advance. Orlando has to remind himself that he shouldn't be surprised, given the circumstances. 

"Not yet," he smiles. "Everything in its time." He decides to attempt once more to reset the tone. "Dom, I'm not looking to put myself between Elijah and someone he loves like a brother, please know that." He's satisfied that he sounds suitably respectful and complimentary.

At the moment, however, Dom isn't much taken with either the etiquette of the remark nor niceties in general. He finds it fucking rich, frankly, that Orlando can disregard the fact that he has squiggled into bed _exactly_ between Elijah and himself. Good of Orlando to come on all conciliatory and what, but hardly true and not much fun, really. "Rather incestuous brothers then," he says with a smile and a wink. "But I'm sure that's yesterday's news." 

Actually, for Orlando, it's not. Until that moment, Dom and Elijah's sexual relationship has only been a supposition on his part. However, now knowing for certain doesn't change how he feels about Elijah. It further illuminates his understanding of Dom though, reinforcing the extent to which Dom must hurt and feel threatened. He still has no desire to engage with Dom, despite the barely masked tone of hostility in what has now been the second caustic comment to come his way. He knows where Elijah's affections lie with regard to him and Dom, and he knows he needs to be gracious. "It only underscores how deep the bond is between you both," he acknowledges. 

Dom's tea and plate of biscuits arrive, and Dom backs off and helps himself, dipping one curved end of cookie into his cup before taking a bite. "Help yourself," he invites through a mouthful of pastry.

Orlando takes one, more out of symbolic politeness than anything else. "Even though you strike me as someone who wouldn't refrain from saying what's on his mind regardless of the company," he tells Dom, "I asked Elijah not to come so that you'll feel more comfortable saying what you wish me to hear. What we say here stays here."

"Ooo, how Vegas!" Dom coos, "though you might have just stated the obvious, mate. To be honest, I'm less concerned with what Elijah hears than with what I hear coming out of _your_ mouth. I don't know if I have anything much to say today that I won't feel like saying in five weeks or five months. It's not that I don't trust you with Elijah or that I can't see that he's very happy with you. I get all that, I really do. It's just that I can't get past the fact that I don't much like you." 

That statement effectively stops the conversation for a moment, the two of them silently watching, reading each other. Presently, Orlando nods. "Perfectly understandable," he says. "I wouldn't much like me either if our positions were reversed. I don't suppose asking if I can do anything about it would be fruitful. Do you think your regard for me is something that might improve in time? Or do you expect you'll always be jealous?"

Dom's brows rise. "Well, that's being a little bitchy," he observes.

"Please," Orlando replies, a trace of annoyance creeping into his tone. As if Dom hasn't already out-bitched him. And he abhors gayspeak at the best of times.

Dom isn't at all fussy about having the jealousy label applied, no matter how well the suit fits. His smile is forced. "Let's just say I'm biding my time, waiting to see how things go, how well you fare when the wheels start coming off the cart."

"And between now and then," Orlando asks, "how do you expect to maintain this façade of politeness? Not with me, but with Elijah? It would seem rather burdensome on one's energy. Nor without risk. How do you think your business venture will proceed when Elijah learns how much you dislike his boyfriend? You risk losing not only an exciting new work opportunity but your friendship as well, you must know that. Elijah is already concerned."

Dom's slightly bored expression is erased in an instant. Learning that his relationship with Elijah has not only been the subject of a conversation from which he's been excluded but also something that's been discussed with a person he can only regard as a rival is particularly unsettling. If he weren't so certain of Elijah's friendship and love, he'd find it a betrayal. 

But the jealousy that remains is just as ugly. "My business, mate," he bites out. For the second time in recent minutes, Dom badly craves weaving a tale of deception and lies just to see those beautiful, dark eyes (that a part of him secretly wishes he'd found first) cloud with doubt. "Yours is not the first pretty face he's wanted to spend time with," he says instead. 

"Nor is his mine," Orlando counters, eyes intent. "But tell me this: when else has Elijah ever decided to quit fucking for profit?" 

Despite the light, fresh breeze, the air between the two of them appears to grow very still. _Don't underestimate me, Dom,_ it seems to be saying. _My eyes are wide open here._

They both know the answer to Orlando's question, just as they both know that Orlando has scored the volley. But Dom is damned if he'll give him the satisfaction of a reply. He picks up another cookie, dips and chews, swallowing slowly. 

_Fuck it,_ he thinks. _Go for the kill._

"Tell me what your thoughts are then" he asks, "on your sweet boy letting some untried stranger suck his cock as part of the new employee procurement process. Just so he can learn first-hand whether further schooling is required. Does that fit nicely into this exciting future you have planned?" 

_Et voila, architect,_ the air seems to say back.

"I'd probably be as annoyed as you are every time he sucks mine," Orlando replies, gaze never wavering, his voice like steel. "We deal with it and move on."

Dom inhales so sharply, his nostrils pinch. "You didn't answer the question," he says.

"Oh, I think I did." 

They stare at each other in silence until the barometer measuring Orlando's slow burn has dropped and he has the good grace to look away. He knows they've reached an impasse, that the next logical and predictable course in this escalation will be for someone to get up and walk away from the table, irreparably pissed. He also knows that, if not in this conversation, at least in the bigger picture, he has the advantage. "Dom," he says, relaxing back into his chair. "I'm not going away. And both you and I know this path Elijah's on is not going away either. It's going to be my bed he's lying in at the end of each day. I know that and so do you. I also know it's going to your voice he shares his business life with every day of the week, many times a day. I know my place in this story. You need to get your head around where yours is going to be. Sincerely, I hope you do. Because it's a critically important place for the man we both love, and for both you and me."

Dom hates this. He hates that Orlando's emergence on the scene has boxed him into this corner, that Elijah's choices have boxed him there. Above all, though, he hates the honest fact that he's probably trapped himself without any help from them at all. He's rarely without words, bluntly accurate ones at that. It's easier to hate a shithead than an intelligent, astute observer who's not only more strategically positioned but also right fucking on the money. Orlando's not a bad bloke, this he can see. He still hasn't figured out whether he's jealous of Elijah loving Orlando, or jealous that Elijah has Orlando loving him. _Fuck._

"Listen," Orlando says. "Let's back off a bit. You share something with Elijah I'll never be able to touch. I'll never replace that nor do I ever want to replace that. If you were to leave his life, it would be a heartbreak and a loss that he'd feel to the end of his days, I truly believe that. I can't predict the future and how our relationship will go. You may be right. Maybe he and I won't work out. It's not for lack of caring or will, but no one knows what lies ahead. However," and Orlando looks Dom straight in the eye, "what both he and I need is support from those around us, my people on my side, Elijah's people on his. Fact is, he needs it more because of everything he's got going. And you are…it." He shakes his head and smiles. "Basically, Dom, I'm coming to you, asking for your blessing, not your enmity. For us, but mostly for him. He needs you."

Dom looks at him, saying nothing. He knew it would come to this, him needing to retreat to save his friendship. He's grateful that Orlando is gracious enough to allow him a little face-saving. But damn, if he wasn't going to see that he gave Orlando a bit of the runaround in the process. 

He fingers his sunglasses and places them on the table. "Just so you know," he says, eyeing Orlando squarely. "The minute you take the smile off his face, I'll be all over him. Just so you know." 

Orlando considers this, then says, "You're a good friend to him, Dom. I would expect nothing less."

Dom snaps his head in agreement and signals for the waiter. "Cognac?" he asks Orlando.

Orlando nods. "But I'm buying."

*

Orlando's mobile rings at least three times before he can fish it out of his jacket and answer. "Hey!" he smiles. "Where are you?"

"I'm back at the flat. Did your meeting with Dom go okay?"

"Brilliant!" Orlando laughs, raising his eyebrows across the table to Dom, turning the mobile so that Dom can read the caller ID, to which Dom grimaces and bats the air like Elijah is an annoying fly. "We've been talking about you. Dom's been telling me tales out of school."

Elijah slips the key into the door of his flat and walks in. "You're speaking a little loudly," he says with a note of caution. "You're still with him, I take it? Oh shit, let me guess. The two of you have been drinking."

Orlando laughs defensively and makes a face at Dom like Elijah's fucking nuts.

"Pass me to Dom," Elijah laughs.

"Brother my brother," Dom says, tipping back in his chair as he takes the phone and winks at Orlando. The table surface between them is littered with the debris of lunch, collapsed constructions made of swizzle sticks and napkins, and about four hours' worth of Remy Martins.

"You're getting him drunk," Elijah laughs.

"Done and done."

"Like I couldn't tell," Elijah says. "He can't hold his booze, Dom."

"I know," Dom squints playfully. "That's why you two are a match made in heaven. Hey, come join us. We need fresh blood. And more money. Bring cash."

Orlando is busily miming a lungful of imaginary reefer.

"And pipeweed," Dom says. "We need pipeweed." 

Orlando climbs to his feet so that he can come around to Dom's chair. He grabs the phone away from his ear which doesn't stop Dom for continuing right on with whatever he's saying, and he mashes his cheek next to Dom's stubbly one. "Here," he says, holding the phone out to take a picture. "Let's show our boy that we can play nice together."

"Jesus," Elijah sighs as a camera clicks in another part of town.

 

* 

*vol d'ami = theft of a friend


End file.
